Prelude To War: Musings
by Mary the Filker
Summary: Harry learns to ask for help and gets it from more people than he expected to deal with his pain and his destiny. Summer after Fifth Year: first segment of a longer piece continuing into Sixth Year. No slash a few OCs ships not a focus. AU as of HBP.
1. Musings: Albus

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling and her assorted publishers, not to me; I'm not making money off this.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

PRELUDE to WAR—MUSINGS (Part One)

I: Albus (Thursday evening, 4 July 1996)

The Order post-meeting dinner was a little gloomy that early July night. True, Voldemort hadn't been doing anything major or obvious; but neither had the Ministry been taking advantage to move forward in prosecuting the Death Eaters caught in June. It seemed (to some, at least) almost as if the Ministry was stalling for something...

Albus Dumbledore sat brooding at the head of the table, glancing around at the others seated there—his friends, his colleagues, some of them fellow survivors of the First Voldemort war. All of them were cherished in his heart; many of them he would gladly die for. _But so few, _he thought to himself. _Too many of them don't trust each other now—how can we recruit new members that we _can_ trust? One Wormtail was enough. If Tom decides to move in any major way soon, we may be in for desperate times._

He then thought of what was to come in just under two months, the Welcome Feast at Hogwarts, at which he would also be presiding—if he had not already died or been crippled himself. _So many of our children, our future—all doomed if we cannot find a way to stop this war soon, before he has a chance to rebuild his forces. He _will_ get his Inner Circle out of Azkaban—it is a matter of _when_, not _if, _now that the Dementors have left;_ _we can't let him get stronger._ His musings showed him a vision of a Hogwarts missing more students each month, until none were left—death, defections to Voldemort, or simply fear of returning. (He suppressed the more horrific vision of the Great Hall of Hogwarts full of the dead and wounded.) _If this conflict drags on, Tom will win by attrition; our best and brightest will be dead or slaves, the Ministry will be a puppet, and all of us here in this room will be dead, imprisoned or in hiding. The average witch and wizard will live in fear, as they did in the First War, and no one will be safe any more. And it all hinges on one person to destroy him—and _he_ isn't ready. I can't force him: Harry must _choose_ to fight, to win or die, or all we have worked for will be lost. And now he's hurting, and I helped hurt him, even as I loved him too dearly...and I don't know how to regain his trust. He and all his friends have had to grow up too fast; I don't blame Molly for not wanting her children in the Order, never mind that even young Ginny would be a good member. They've all lost their childhood to Tom. I also don't know how we can help Harry win, when we haven't even figured out _how_ to destroy Tom for good. We cannot afford to half-do the job again. We were lucky last time. The best I can think of is for us to be there to hold off the Death Eaters long enough for Harry to get a good shot at Tom—with what? Harry can defend his mind with love, but how can he use it to destroy what Tom's become, so that he never comes back?_

His half-closed eyes passed over several people and lit briefly on one of the least-trusted Order members: their Death Eater spy, Severus Snape; to his recollection, this was the first time Snape had actually stayed for dinner. Not all the members had Albus' faith in the dark man not to change coats again and betray them. _They don't know the choices he's had to make, or what he is willing to do to prevent Tom's victory,_ he mused. _I _need_ this man, especially at Hogwarts. But if something happens to me, I fear we will lose Severus to suspicion and fear from our own side. And one mistake in front of Tom, or another betrayer, and he will die horribly—and I can do so little to help him. He's so alone, and has to wear his mask so much...and I think he does not expect to survive to see victory. I must do better by him somehow: he deserves so much more._

A chill settled into the old man's heart. He had no particular gift for Divination, but a century and a half of life—some of it at war, and all of it dealing with people of all kinds—had honed his basic intuition. _If we don't manage to pull off something soon—within this next year or so—this war will drag on for decades, and the children entering Hogwarts now will know nothing BUT war. We haven't the numbers for a decisive attack, even with all the Inner Circle members that Tom lost in the Ministry, and we can't count on the Ministry. Fudge doesn't want Tom to win, but he wants to be in a good place in either case. Between the people who fear Tom, the ones who will do anything just to be left alone, and the ones who will support anything for gold, Tom doesn't have to do anything much but sit back and watch us pick each other off, and feast on what's left—and I fear that there will be too little left. I'm also not fool enough to deny that there are forces that support neither side and are waiting to see who wins—and who are too blind to see the consequences. We'll be fortunate indeed if we don't end up fighting a two-front war!_

He smiled very slightly to himself as he accepted what else his intuition told him. _However it goes, this is my _last_ war: Even if we win and I survive, I will not see the next one. The next generation will have to deal with the next tyrant; all I can do now is give everything I can to win this war, and if I must die in it, to sell my life dearly. I don't want to condemn this generation to nothing but conflict and pain, and I will gladly die under torture before I see Tom take Hogwarts. We cannot afford such a loss. I need a plan._

"Albus? Albus!" He was pulled from his glum musings by the voice of Molly Weasley, and her hand shaking his arm. "I have asked you three times if you want a second helping of dessert! Where _is_ your mind, that you are ignoring your favorite course?"

He looked up, blinked, and smiled kindly at the good, honest woman who had taken up the job of feeding the Order members at dinner. "My mind? It seems to have wandered off for a while—have you seen it?"

She looked at him, and sadly shook her head while some of the others chuckled. "Albus, dear, I _do _hope you don't act like that at Hogwarts, or there will be more _Prophet_ articles on how you're getting too dotty to keep your job. You looked as if you weren't even in this room!"

"No fear of that, Molly, not while I have my fellow Professors and all the students to keep me focused. And as for your original question, I will have a _half_-helping of seconds on the pudding." He dished up the portion, and continued. "As for my mind, I have found that it's sometimes useful just to let it wander—no telling what it may find inside my head. After all, I have a century and a half of memories and learning, so it's not surprising that I don't always remember everything." He gave her a smile, and she could see the twinkle was back in his eyes.

But the wise Witch also saw more lines in the old face and more shadows in his spirit. _Poor Albus,_ she thought to herself. _He has to bear the whole burden of running the war and running Hogwarts too, not to mention all that is expected of the greatest Wizard of our time, his duties to the Wizengamot and the International and all, and we aren't helping with all the bickering. How he must hurt with some of the things he must send people off to do. Every time one of us is hurt or lost, he takes it personally—he can't help it; that's the way he is. I _know_ he's not over us losing Sirius. He even hurts for Severus, and Merlin knows _that_ man isn't easy to care about! A man such as Albus is, with the loving and generous heart he's got, shouldn't have to run a war, especially at his age, no matter how great a Wizard he is. That's what the Ministry and Aurors are supposed to do—or would, if they weren't so corrupt..._

Albus, for his part, spooned up the pudding, but his mind was retreating again in part. A glimmer of an idea was forming. _It's a terrible risk—but we may have no choice. The only way we can win quickly—if at all—is to force Tom to do battle under OUR conditions, not his, and before he can truly build up his strength: and I may have to use my increasing "dottiness" to bait a trap. At the same time, I too must be prepared, and there are maybe half-a-dozen people I know and trust enough who are good enough to train with me. I am not too old or too proud to go back into training. If I am to provide what I think I will have to, I must be in the best condition I can be, both physically and magically...for in order for Tom to decisively win, he must kill both me and Harry, and I must make that as difficult as possible—especially if Harry has to face him too soon, before he is truly ready._


	2. Musings: Harry

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling and her assorted publishers, not to me; I'm not making money off this.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

PRELUDE TO WAR--MUSINGS

II: Harry (Thursday, 4 July 1996)

At about the same time that Dumbledore's mind was wandering, so also was Harry Potter's. Still in pain over the death of his beloved Godfather, and still badly shaken at the revelation of the Prophecy that he and no one else must kill Voldemort or die at the Dark Lord's hand, Harry was sitting on his bed at Number 4 Privet Drive, trying desperately to figure out something—anything—to do about it. While he knew that he was stuck at the Dursleys' house for at least a month to reinforce the blood protection, he was still forbidden to do magic there, and he begrudged the time wasted when he could be getting ready for whatever it was that he had to do. Things such as Quidditch, dates, History of Magic homework, and even the receipt of his upcoming OWL grades seemed to pale in insignificance beside the fact that he would have to kill Voldemort, or else die. He was not yet sixteen, and he had already fought in several battles as if he were an adult Wizard. Well, he had better start preparing to be one, or else there might be no future for Hogwarts or its students.

He had already gone through the blame cycle for Sirius Black's death: blaming himself, Dumbledore, Snape, Kreacher, and Sirius himself in equal parts with Bellatrix Lestrange and Voldemort. But he had come to realize that the only true constant in the matter _was_ Voldemort: if it were not for him, Bellatrix would not have been in a position to Stun Sirius into the Veil. Granted, all the others had played a part; but none of them, not even Snape, had _intended_ Sirius' death except maybe Kreacher; he was so old and crazy even by House Elf standards, a case could be made for Madame Black's portrait encouraging him to lie to Dumbledore and Harry, who after all weren't his masters. If not for Voldemort, Sirius would have never been in Azkaban, or in hiding, because of murders he did not commit, and gone nearly mad again stuck in a house he hated. It still hurt, knowing all that he, Harry, would never have because of Sirius' death: but while Sirius was gone, there were many others still alive and well, and if Harry had anything to say about it, they would stay that way. Sirius, at least, had died fighting, as Hagrid had said; Cedric Diggory had never even had that chance, and that was Voldemort's fault as well, even more than Harry's.

He leaned back against the wall, forcing himself to consider the events in the Ministry. One of the harder things he had had to do was acknowledge (with, however, many silent tears) that he could not have stopped his five friends from going with him, even though they had all been injured in some fashion. He also knew that the next time—and there would be one, given the way things were going—they would do exactly the same. Harry had had few friends in his life, and none before Hogwarts, so he valued and cherished the ones he had and would have gladly died for any of them. His greatest desire was to prevent the least harm from coming to his friends—and because they _were_ his friends, they were targets. Unfortunately, they were also targets on their own merits: the Weasleys and Neville for being members of staunch anti-Voldemort Order families; Luna because of her father's _Quibbler_ not fearing to speak the truth (though granted it _was_ mixed in with a lot of tabloid-style weirdness); and Hermione because she was a Muggle-born witch who outshone all the Purebloods in her year. The only way he could stop harm coming to them was to stop Voldemort, and at least his main supporters. And, while he wished with all his heart that he _could_ do it all himself, he knew that even if he _could_ handle the Dark Lord one-on-one someday (Dumbledore's duel with Voldemort in the Ministry was an object lesson in what class he was presuming to fight in), he couldn't handle him _and_ even a small cadre of Death Eaters at the same time. He simply _could not_ put himself between each of his friends and danger, all the time; there was only one of him, and he _had_ to concentrate on the bigger target. He would have to gulp down his pride and his pain, no matter how much it hurt, and allow himself to have help. He needed the training and the help to survive long enough to kill Voldemort, and take down as many Death Eaters as possible; his friends needed the same to fight off the Death Eaters for him with as few losses as possible. He would worry about what happened afterward--_if_ there was an afterward.

(A little voice in his mind kept whispering: "But what about _me_ and my needs? I need to go places, have friends, and do things! I've had _nothing_ all my life until I went to Hogwarts! It's not _fair_!"

He thought for a minute or two, and answered it: "Life isn't fair, and never has been! If Riddle is not destroyed, there will _be_ no friends, no places to walk, and no me TO do things! First things are going to have to come first, fair or not. It isn't fair to the rest of them that all their lives hang on what _I_ have to do!")

To that end, he made several resolutions: no more needless deaths if he could prevent them. (Voldemort's was a needed death.) No more skiving off anything he had to do that would help him, such as his core classes in Charms, Transfiguration and DADA. If he couldn't do magic over the summer, he could at least get some kind of physical exercise (at least all his chores helped there) so that he wouldn't run out of breath mid-fight. And when school began again he would concentrate on the useful material, and dump the rest. In order to appreciate studying for good NEWT scores, he had to be sure he was alive to _take_ the NEWTs. Anything else—a career, a romance, or whatever—could wait until he had ended the war. To that end, he also resolved that he would continue the DA if he could, but keep it to practical fighting and dueling; the more students who could protect themselves, the fewer students who would need extra protection. Maybe he could invite in some Aurors for guest lectures. He would let the DADA Professor, whomever that ended up to be, handle the theory, the regular curriculum, and basic practice. If his Quidditch ban were lifted, he'd return to the team _if_ he had time (if only for the fact that flying was all he had to relax his mind), but he wouldn't take the Captaincy if offered. Of the returning members, Katie Bell had been there as long as Harry, but she was a Seventh-Year and this was her NEWT year. Ron had only been there one year, but he had forgotten more about the ins and outs of Quidditch strategy than Harry had ever learned. Plus, the Keeper had a far better view of the action than the Seeker or Chasers did. If he could just keep his temper and his focus, Ron would be an excellent Captain—if not this year, then next.

And, reluctantly, he would have to choke down even more humble pie and write two letters of apology.

The first was to Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. While he still seethed over not being told enough information that could maybe have spared Sirius, he was also forced to admit two things: first, what had been done, or not, was now in the past and immovable; no one could change it now, and they would all have to deal with what was instead of wasting energy on might-have-beens. Second, the Headmaster _had_ tried to do the best he could with what he had. Further, the old man had taken a large chunk of the blame for Sirius onto himself without ducking it, and had admitted that he was not infallible. Harry was also fairly certain that if he did the right thing and apologized, the Headmaster would forgive Harry's trashing his office (although he wasn't so sure about whether some of the portraits would). After all, hadn't Dumbledore practically invited Harry to hurt _him_ instead of breaking the furniture and trinkets?

Harry grew cold as he thought of how it might have been if he _had_ given into any urge to strike the old Headmaster: he might not have stopped, and Dumbledore might have chosen not to stop him; in fact, he had said as much. What if Voldemort had picked up on it, so soon after the Ministry fight? Harry didn't even want to think about _that_ outcome: he could have accidentally killed or seriously hurt the old man before Dumbledore realized his danger, and then where would he be now? He'd have been sent to Azkaban faster than Sirius had been: Dumbledore was an idol of the Wizarding community. And, his own conscience would have done far more to him than any amount of Dementors. No, he _had_ to learn advanced fighting skills and Occlumency, if he hoped to survive his battle long enough to take down Voldemort, and Dumbledore was his best access to the training he needed.

And speaking of _that_ person: Harry resolved to never again use "You-Know-Who" or any of the other euphemisms that most Wizarding folks used, no matter how many people flinched. For that matter, he also resolved never to use "Lord Voldemort" again, except without the "Lord". In his mind, Voldemort was no proper Lord of anything (Fudge's name of "Lord Thingy" in the _Prophet_ came to mind) and wasn't worthy of a title. For that matter, since "Voldemort" was the Dark Lord's self-chosen _nom de guerre_, he wouldn't give him the satisfaction of using it unless he had to. The man (or whatever he was now) was born Tom Marvolo Riddle Jr., so "Tom Riddle" he would be to Harry, or maybe "the Dark Lord" (never mind that the latter form was most commonly used by Death Eaters and their sympathizers). Also, while everyone seemed to flinch at hearing "Voldemort", saying "Tom Riddle" didn't have that power.

The second was to a man he alternately despised and respected—Severus Snape, the Potions Master of Hogwarts, who had tried to teach Harry Occlumency and thrown him out over Harry violating the privacy of the man's Pensieve. Harry despised Snape for being nothing but unfair and harsh in his classes, and going out of his way to belittle and humiliate a boy he considered a carbon copy of an arrogant father who had been cruel to Snape in their own school days. On his more rational days, however, Harry was forced to respect a man who spied on the Dark Lord for Dumbledore, having many face-to-face encounters with the most feared Wizard alive, enduring pain and humiliation on a regular basis—and still surviving. (Voldemort was not a forgiving sort; he loved for his people to properly grovel at his feet, and tended to be liberal with the Cruciatus Curse.) He _had_ to still be loyal to Dumbledore, no matter what Ron and Mad-Eye said, because he had had numerous opportunities to betray or kill both Dumbledore and Harry, and both still lived. All this, besides, was on top of a full schedule of teaching children and teens a dangerous subject—Potions. That no one had perished in any of his classes in the some ten-fifteen years he'd been teaching at Hogwarts, despite numerous accidents, had to mean _something_. Also, there was the matter of the life-debt that Snape had owed James Potter: to be honest and fair, Harry had the right, as James' heir, to formally declare the debt repaid at least once or twice over, considering the times Snape had saved his life. Sirius' recklessness been the cause of it; but Harry could declare it redeemed and prove himself better than either his father or his Godfather.

Also, until he found out his OWL scores, he wouldn't know if he was going to get into NEWT Potions. If he did, he resolved to ignore all distractions (putting up shields if need be) and excel in that class, no matter how hard he had to study. He would never gain Snape's respect any other way.

At that time, Harry got out a Muggle pen and notepad and began jotting down a to-do list. "Write letters" was first, followed by a subheading "Dumbledore: apology, book suggestions – Snape: apology, books or teaching aids until able to have lessons – Aurors: Mad-Eye, Tonks: training ideas, books – Hermione."

That latter musing brought another: just what WAS Tom Riddle now, anyway? Was he even a man, worthy of being killed only in a fair fight and not to be cold-bloodedly murdered? Or was he a "being", by the rules of the Ministry of Magic: not human but intelligent, like the House Elves and Goblins, or part-human like werewolves, and not given human status? Apart from Peter Pettigrew, Harry was the only one who had witnessed the actual rebirth in the cemetery (the other Death Eaters had been called in after the rebirth), so whatever he saw there had to be the starting point of his research. That, he realized, would likely fall to Hermione, who could search five books for every one Harry could, and get twice the useful facts-per-book. A pass to the Restricted Section was probably called for—or maybe if the Black library hadn't yet been cleared out—maybe he could get the Headmaster to write one with a term project in DADA as an excuse. Defending against Tom Riddle certainly qualified as DADA, after all! He made a note under "Hermione": "Books, research counter to revival ritual".

Next idea, after some thought, was "Ask Aurors and Order to catch Pettigrew alive". It wasn't _just_ to try and clear Sirius' name, even posthumously, although that was part of it, if only to protect Order HQ. Pettigrew had also been the one to perform the revival ritual, and he would be the one to question where it came from. What could be done could be undone _somehow_.

Harry's thoughts took him back to he horrendous memory of the rebirth, as his dreams often had; but now he forced himself to look _at_ the ritual. "Bone of the father"—well, Tom Riddle Sr. had been a Muggle, and maybe that was usable. "Blood of the enemy"—that was Harry's own blood, and he would have to see if he could at least magically reclaim it. "Flesh of the servant"—now, if Pettigrew were caught, Harry knew he'd have to do something about that silver hand, if only to protect Remus Lupin from it. He didn't know if it had any powers of its own, and he didn't want to risk any lives finding out. And, as with Riddle, he refused to use Pettigrew's Marauder nickname "Wormtail", except in reference to the Map: in Harry's eyes, he had forfeited the right to that name, or the title of "Marauder", when he took up with his Dark Master. Also, he personally owed Harry a life-debt, and Harry intended to see _that_ bit of information made useful.

With all this in mind, he put aside the notepad, noticing with some surprise that it was almost dinnertime. After fixing dinner for the Dursleys and himself, he went back upstairs, got out parchment, ink and quills, and began writing letters.


	3. Musings: Albus & Harry

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling and her assorted publishers, not to me; I'm not making money off this.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

PRELUDE TO WAR—MUSINGS & LETTERS

III: Albus and Harry (Friday morning, 5 July 1996)

Tonks came into HQ with a handful of scrolls. "Post time! Hi, Remus—this one's for you; just picked it up at Figg's." (Harry's mail was sent through Arabella Figg, so that post owls would not disturb his relatives; outgoing mail went the same way, and was a much shorter run for Hedwig.)

Remus took the scroll addressed to him, opened it, and scanned it quickly. "Looks like the usual 'I'm OK' report, but he promises a longer letter later." He took a second glance at it; then turned toward Tonks.

"How's he _really_ doing? Do you ever see him?" For all his pain over so recently losing one of his dearest friends a second time, he knew at least that Sirius' fight was over; his current concern was for Harry, the much-loved cub of their odd pack.

"Uh-huh, he seems to be doing a lot of studying. I got a peek into his window a couple of days ago from broom-level and he was busy writing. Looked thoughtful and determined, not too broody." She sorted out some of the other scrolls and left them on the table to be picked up. She then went to the fireplace, threw in the Floo Powder, spoke the password, and said, "Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts!"

"Come on through, Tonks," said Dumbledore. "I take it that this is post from Harry?"

"Yes. There's one for you, and one for Snape, of all people!" She shook her head ruefully as she tossed the scrolls on the desk. While she secretly admired the sheer courage of their spy, his snarky-bastard attitude to the world was enough to irritate a saint—and Tonks wasn't a saint. "Well, gotta go—places to go, paperwork to file, bad guys to catch..." She grinned, blew the old Headmaster a kiss, and left the way she had come.

Dumbledore smiled at the brash young Auror, and turned his attention to the scrolls. "Fawkes, drop this off to Severus, would you please?" He handed his Phoenix the scroll for Snape, and gave the bird a head-scratch. Fawkes trilled quietly, and disappeared; he reappeared in a few minutes with a scrap of parchment, reading thus:

Letter received. SS 

Dumbledore smiled. "Not a man of many words, is he?" He looked over at his familiar with love and respect. "Why don't you go out for a flight on such a nice day?"

Fawkes stretched his wings out a minute; then he flew over to his master's shoulder for a few minutes, affectionately rubbing the bearded cheek. He then hopped down to the desktop, and took off for the window and out. Dumbledore smiled again; then opened the scroll from Harry. It wasn't brief, either, and as he read it through, it was with very mixed emotions: great pride in Harry's owning up to his responsibilities and destiny, and equally great sorrow that so much should be laid on him still...

_Dear Professor Dumbledore:_

_First of all, I want to apologize for wrecking your office last June. Yes, I was angry and hurting and you wouldn't let me out. But that is still no excuse for throwing things and breaking furniture. Please send me a bill for the repairs or replacements, if _Reparo_ charms aren't enough, and I will repay you from my Gringotts account when I can get there next. Also, please tell the portraits that next time I am in your office, I will apologize to them; they should not have to have seen or heard that. I hope Headmaster Black understands that I was angry and heartsick about the loss of _his _last descendant._

_In retrospect, I am very glad that I did not attack _you_, as you thought I would and should. Things can be replaced; you cannot, and such an assault, given what Riddle (I will no longer use any other name for him!) can and did do, could have been far more dangerous to both of us than mere bruises and broken bones. It chills me to even imagine what I might have done to you—and the guilt would have been many times more than what I still feel for Sirius._

_I have been fortunate that the Order's warning to my relatives has caused them to leave me alone for the most part. I also have my things with me in my room, so I can at least review my previous years' books. I still have to do chores, but I need the exercise anyway. I cannot afford to get any weaker or softer: I have a task ahead of me, and I must prepare._

_And yes, I am still deeply angry and unhappy about being refused information to prepare me for the main task at hand. We have lost at least a year I could have been preparing. I know you have been trying to protect me, and my friends; _this can't go on_. I will try to forgive you for all that, if you will TRY to keep me informed at least somewhat and get me the training I need. We can't afford to waste more time. Molly Weasley means well, and she has her own family to worry about—but face it: we aren't children any more, despite our ages. We've all been forced into adult situations we should never have to have faced; our childhood is over. You cannot protect us all from the war, any more than I can personally protect all my friends from Tom and his cronies, as much as I want to; we MUST learn what we need to protect each other and ourselves._

_To this end, if I cannot have the underage restrictions lifted, I need to get books for next year (depending on what I am taking), so that I may at least study ahead. As I said, I have been reading through my older books, but I need a LOT more. I need books on advanced DADA and Occlumency; I can't afford to be a security risk any more. When I leave here, I need to go where I can get combat tutoring by Mad-Eye or Tonks; we six were very lucky to have all come out of the Department of Mysteries alive and no worse off than we did, considering who and how many we were fighting. And since my friends will not abandon me (no matter how little I deserve them), they need training too. I also hope to restart the DA next year, even if we get a half-decent teacher for Defense. (Are you _sure_ you can't get Remus Lupin back? He was the best we ever had. Even Crouch Jr./fake Moody was better than the other three! The real Moody would be an excellent guest coach for the DA, if you can't get him full-time.)_

_Regarding Quidditch: I will understand if you cannot get my lifetime ban lifted (although I suggest you send Professor McGonagall to plead my case!). But I DO need to get my Firebolt back; it's my personal property, not a school broom, and one of the only gifts I ever had from Sirius. Umbridge confiscated it, and last I heard it was in the dungeon guarded by security trolls. I'll play for the team IF I can spare the time; I need to get back into flying practice, even if I don't play, because I think I may need it in the future; and frankly, flying is the only relaxation I have. If Umbridge has destroyed it, I will ask you to bring up civil charges against her for the cost of a replacement, although nothing can replace its sentimental value. You and Hogwarts should not be liable for anything that vile creature did!_

_Regarding Occlumency: I have written to Professor Snape, apologizing for the action of mine that caused him to throw me out of the training. I have also offered to settle some personal matters between us. It is my hope that this will allow him to consider restarting the lessons. However, there is one concern I have. As I recall, you were worried that connecting the two of us with Legilimency (you and me) might give Riddle access to you and your actions. I can understand that; sometimes, when I was with you, I could feel him in the back of my mind waiting like a coiled snake. But, your loyalties are known. This could be much worse for Professor Snape, considering what he is and does: an error here may cost him his life, under conditions I shudder to imagine; no matter how much I may personally dislike him, I will not willingly put him at so much risk if there is any other way to do this. (Does this have anything to do with the fact that my scar hurt after every session with him?) Also, at least three, and maybe more, of those who went with me that night know what _he_ is, and they should also be taught. I do not _like_ him, and the feeling is more than mutual, but I am learning to _respect_ him for what he does for the Order, and I will not have his life on my conscience if I can avoid it; I can't give it back to him if it's lost. No matter what I may think of him as a person, he is still a mortal human being, doing a hard and dangerous job, and I refuse to treat him as any less. (And regardless of Ron's and Mad-Eye's opinions, I think he's still loyal to you, at least right now; he's had more than enough opportunities to kill or abduct both of us, and we're both still here.)_

_Regarding the Order: I know that you still refuse (and Mrs. Weasley refuses) entry into the Order for any underage Wizard or Witch. However, some of us are in too deeply NOT to be involved. I suggest for us a compromise: a junior Order, subject to the same bindings and promises, but not obligating us to go on active-duty missions until we are ready and old enough. It's far too late for us to be kept from some of the secrets. The Order can use Hermione's superb research skills and Ron's tactical genius. Neville is far more than he thinks he is; getting his own wand should help (his father's wand was what he has been using all this time, and it was broken in the Department of Mysteries). His plant expertise is genius-level. Luna has a point of view no one else has, and picks up on things the rest of us miss; she is also a good researcher. And, of all of us, the only one of us six to face or be possessed by Riddle in any form, besides me, is Ginny. We should be able to make use of that somehow. Do NOT make the mistake of underestimating her! (This should be apart from the DA, which would be a semi-open organization.) All of us could use more training in combat and dueling, so that next time we are in a battle (and there will be—not any sooner than we can avoid, but there will be) we can make a better account of ourselves._

_Also regarding the Order: I have a request, if it can be carried off: capture Peter Pettigrew alive. This is not just to get Sirius' name cleared (although that might help ensure the safety of HQ; I don't know who inherits the house or his things, although I hope it's Tonks or Remus). He is privy to a great deal of Riddle's knowledge and would be a valuable source of information. He also, as you recall, owes me a Wizard's Life Debt, and I intend to collect on it for all the pain he has caused. I also have an idea that requires the removal of the silver hand Riddle gave him; I think I want to discuss that with you in person, though. Professor Snape should be able to tell you if this is a workable idea. After the Order is done with him, the Ministry can have him. I am not interested in personally taking vengeance, only justice; and I definitely don't want Remus tempted into an action that will get him executed. (And as with Riddle, I will no longer grant Pettigrew his Marauder nickname: as far as I'm concerned, he lost that right the day he took the Mark.)_

_In closing, I wish to apologize again for my actions, and I hope that you will understand my need to become ready for what I must do as soon as possible—whatever the cost. The longer it takes, the more lives will be lost; it hurts enough every time someone else dies because I didn't kill Riddle dead enough the first time, and had a part (albeit unwilling) in his resurrection. Afterwards--if there is one for me--will be soon enough to organize the rest of my life._

_Sincerely yours, _

_Harry Potter_

Dumbledore sat back with a sigh. Again, Harry had not only met and far exceeded his expectations, but some of his concerns were eerily parallel with Albus' own: the sooner the war was ended, the better. And he had to admit that Harry had some good ideas and points to be discussed. He sat back in his chair and absently picked up another lemon drop; then, with a sense of purpose and some ideas about what he wanted to do, he reached for quill and parchment and began making lists of his own.


	4. Musings: Severus & Harry

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and his world belong to J.K. Rowling and her assorted publishers, not to me; I'm not making money off this.

Spoilers: All five HP novels.

PRELUDE TO WAR—MUSINGS & LETTERS

IV: Severus and Harry (Friday noon to afternoon, 5 July 1996)

Professor Severus Snape was in his dungeon workshop, working on Remus Lupin's next Wolfsbane Potion. He had actually come to a pause in the work, where the ingredients must simmer for a while in the cauldron, when a flash of flame announced the Headmaster's phoenix, Fawkes. A letter was clutched in the bird's claws.

"Well, for once you didn't interrupt anything, though why he can't send things through the internal Floo or with a House-Elf is beyond me," Snape commented as he took the scroll. Fawkes trilled a few notes, and vanished, holding Snape's hurriedly scribbled acknowledgment.

Snape checked his timer, and decided he had time for a cup of tea with the letter. When that was ready, he settled down into his favorite reading chair and opened the letter.

The tea went cold in the cup as he read, and then reread, a rather disturbing letter from one of his least favorite people.

_Dear Professor Snape:_

_I have several matters for you to consider, upon which I have thought a great deal; all I ask at this time is that you read my entire letter at least once before you burn it._

First: I most sincerely apologize for violating your privacy last year by looking into your Pensieve. I have not told anyone about it, except to ask Remus and Sirius for an explanation of the incident afterwards. I was not satisfied by the explanation, and believe that James and Sirius were in the wrong, as was Remus for not stopping it. The whole incident reminded me too much of how I was treated by my cousin and his friends—and I despise bullying, no matter who is doing it, and no matter who is the victim. I don't know if they ever apologized for it; but whether they did or not, now that they are both gone, I will now do so on their behalf. As for my own actions, I can only say that I was desperate to see anything of my parents—even in the memories of someone who despised them. It's still no excuse for what I did, and you didn't deserve me doing it to you. As far as I'm concerned, your anger was fully justified. For all of that, I repeat that I'm sincerely sorry, and I will not do it again. It isn't nearly enough, it can't change any of what happened, and I'm not asking forgiveness for any of us; but it should be acknowledged by both of us who are still here, and then put aside for now, so that we can both move on to more important issues.

_Second: A related matter is the life-debt you owed my father over the incident with Remus at school. As his only heir, I formally acknowledge the several times you either saved _my_ life (as in First Year), or risked your own to protect me. As far as I'm concerned, the debt is paid, with interest (actually, I probably owe _you_ instead by now), and no more need be said about it. If you need a formal ritual for this, let me know; Wizarding customs I'm still learning as I go. Again, we both need to move on. How you and Remus deal with this history is between you two; but I really wish the two of you could get to the point of being able to work together for the Order without so much friction, as we all must at this time. _

_Third: I most respectfully request that we restart the Occlumency lessons, under whatever pretext we can devise. I have come to realize that too many lives depend on it, yours not the least. At least three of those who went with me to the Ministry know what you are, and will also need training; but they are not as directly vulnerable as I am, and the Headmaster is not as much at risk from them. I fear to risk your life to my connection with Riddle (I refuse to use any of the silly names for him any more, including his own), but I can't see any other way to manage it. I will make a more sincere effort to learn this, now that I have _finally_ been told why I am at all important to the war effort other than as a symbol. As I cannot leave here for at least another two to three weeks, I ask you to recommend some books on the subject, so that I have a better idea of what we were trying to do. I can order them by Owl Post through the Headmaster and Mrs. Figg. I can read and study, even if I cannot do any magic, and I have been trying to clear my mind at night. I find that is becoming easier since I wrote to the Headmaster and cleared up a few matters; maybe if I can figure out how to deal with events, the emotions can be better dealt with. (For that matter, writing this letter is helping.)_

_Fourth: You are the resident Order and Hogwarts expert on the Dark Arts and on Riddle. If I give you a Pensieve memory of Riddle's revival ritual, can you help me—or Hermione, who is MUCH better—research how to counter it? (This may also help me with the nightmares that I still have of it.) I know that a potion of some sort was involved, and that is your primary expertise. If you know why I am involved at all, then you know why I want to know. If not, ask the Headmaster; it's not my place to tell you. I have an idea about that, and I want to know if it is viable._

_Last: I can't afford pride any more; I have a mission to fulfill, and I may only have one good chance. I cannot do it alone; I need help, yours especially. I'm not asking you to like me; I'm asking you to help me to achieve the same goal toward which you are working. I know that half of the treatment you gave me in class was to please certain factions; the other half was the personal irritation of me looking like James. If I make it into your NEWT class, I will accept the former as necessary if you will try to hold back on the latter. In return, I promise to make a far better effort to succeed in class. I'm not as gifted as apparently my parents were, and I didn't grow up in the Wizarding world knowing the things Wizard-borns take as given; I have to work for it, and I promise to work harder this time. (I just hope the class is small enough that no one can sabotage each other's potions, or else I may start using shielding charms.) I will also try and treat you as respectfully as you do me. I don't like you either, but I can work with you in a civil manner, if you would please not provoke me more than is needed. I know I need to learn to rein in my temper, and the fewer provocations, the better. _

_I also make a solemn promise to put maximum effort into what I ultimately will have to do; I have too much to lose by failure. I also don't think we have much time left; I don't know why this is so, as I have no real gift for Divination, but that's what my gut feelings are saying—the ones that I ought to listen to more often before I dive into trouble. I am willing to pay whatever price I have to. Others have paid far too much for me; it's my turn to pay them back with my best efforts. Please help me. If my own sake or even the cause are not good enough for you, then please remember: I'm my mother's son as well as my father's, and while you hated him, I have never heard you say a single bad word about her (I don't count you insulting her in that incident). Please don't let me waste what she did._

_Sincerely yours, _

Harry Potter 

Snape reread the letter for the third time. Absently casting a Warming Charm on his now stone-cold tea, he sipped it while he pondered. _This doesn't make sense_. _When did Potter acquire a brain (and without Granger's help—she was the brains of that bunch) and good sense?_ _When had he learned to write so intelligently? His essays should be so well written! And how on earth is he writing anything this personal so coherently (and so bluntly), so soon after Black's death, and to_ me? _I'm certain the boy blames me in part for it; damn the mutt for not staying put!_

The entire letter bothered him. This wasn't the Potter he was familiar with at all. And for that matter, the events in the Ministry had barely even been mentioned, and that was disturbing, too; he expected Potter to still be in the depths of the depression and anger he saw at the end of the school year. It just didn't add up, and the more he thought about it, the uneasier it made him.

Finally deciding to act, he did. Tucking the letter into his pocket, he fire-called the Headmaster.

"Albus, I'm going over to Headquarters for a while. Is there anything you need while I'm there?"

"Yes," the older man replied. "See if the Black library has any Dark Arts books that may touch on Tom's revival ritual. I have only found mentions in the books here, and nothing actually _about_ it. I only have Harry's verbal account of it, and I'm sure that isn't all of it; Harry hasn't the expertise to know what he may have seen and not noticed."

Snape allowed himself a small smile. "I think there are books on that subject at the Riddle House, but I rather doubt that the Dark Lord would understand if I borrowed them," he said wryly. "After all, it had to come from _somewhere_." He decided to hold off mentioning Potter's rather astonishing offer for the moment, although he would need to speak in more detail about that to Albus, and soon.

The Headmaster returned the smile with one of his own. "Actually, he might understand _too_ well, if you get my drift. It's probably best not to push matters there. Anyway, do let me know when you get back; I think there are some things we need to discuss. Oh—I think I will want to call the House Heads for a meeting early next week, probably Monday; I'm noting down some ideas I would like all your thoughts on."

"This early? We usually don't meet until two weeks prior to term, and that's well over a month away."

"Yes. These are not usual times, Severus, and the usual routine will not now suffice. Go, then, my friend, and be well." With that cryptic reply, Dumbledore's head vanished from the fire.


End file.
